Procreate
by Loudmouth Lamb
Summary: In a version of Panem where young men and women are bred in an annual ceremony to produce the next generation of manual laborers, Gale and Madge try to make the best out of the worst. AU (no Hunger Games). Mild Everlark.
1. Check-Up

**"A rat in a maze is free to go anywhere, as long as it stays inside the maze."**

Madge was not supposed to relieve herself. Though she'd only had a few sips of water, the only liquid she was allowed to drink, she had to pee, and she was thirsty, and there were still three hours left before her appointment.

"How was it?" she asked Katniss, who had already gone and could again drink and urinate as much as she pleased.

"I still feel violated," grumbled Katniss. She picked at a splinter of wood with her pinky nail. Madge's gut clenched at the thought of what awaited her. She'd rather never pee again than be evaluated by Capitol medics. Seeing the terror in her friend's eyes, Katniss stopped scratching at the table.

"It doesn't hurt," she said. The words came out stiffly conciliatory, despite her efforts to sound soft and comforting. "And it's quick," she added.

Madge didn't particularly want to know any more; however she believed it was always best to be as prepared as possible. She took a deep breath, opened her mouth to ask for details about the procedure, but then Gale Hawthorne appeared.

"How'd it go?" he asked, acknowledging only Katniss.

"Fine," she said.

"Got your results yet?"

"Not until tomorrow."

Gale's eyes flooded with sympathetic warmth, ill-matched to his nonchalant tone. "Well, hopefully they come back negative."

"Hopefully," said Katniss. If the results were positive, then the torture had only just begun.

Gale turned his gaze, all sympathy gone, to Madge. He smirked at the way she squirmed on the bench, crossing and uncrossing her legs.

"What's wrong, Undersee?" he asked. "Gotta go?"

Madge scowled at him, but said nothing, refusing to rise to the bait this time. She had more important things on her mind than him. Gale tossed back his head and laughed. As he left, he mimicked the sound of running water. Madge clamped her thighs together. Her bladder throbbed, painfully full.

* * *

Cold air blasted from the overhead vents. Madge shivered in her thin gown as she lay flat on her back, with her knees rising like mountains.

"Open wide," said the medic. A man. She wished she'd gotten a woman. She tried to part her knees. They seemed stuck together by a force beyond conscious control. Why did it have to be so cold in here? Her skin puckered with goosebumps.

"I don't have all day, girl," said the medic, prying apart her legs with impatient hands. He reached for the tray of gleaming, steel instruments. Madge squeezed her eyelids closed. She didn't want to see which of the instruments he picked up. Icy air struck her thighs and crept into her through that little doorway down below.

Katniss had been right. Whatever the medic was doing down there didn't hurt. Neither was it pleasant. She grimaced as he inserted one of his tools. His poking and prodding fingers burned hot in sickening contrast to the cold steel mystery instrument. Protests clawed at the back of Madge's throat. She trapped them behind her teeth, determined not to make a peep, not to breathe, not to move, until the medic finally withdrew.

* * *

"I hope I get Delly again this year," said Thom, as he and Gale walked home from school.

"She's a townie," said Gale, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"Town girls are all sorts of wild," said Thom. "You don't even know."

Gale couldn't deny that. He'd participated in the annual breeding twice. Both time he'd been assigned seam girls. It was bad enough that the Capitol forced them to procreate. The thought of having to do it with a townie made him nauseous, even though he'd never see the resultant offspring, assuming there were any. Only children born to married couples became automatic citizens of Twelve. Those born to the breeder generation, anyone between sixteen and twenty-one, were parceled out across Panem where population growth was most needed. No children were ever sent to Twelve, since they were virtually useless in the mines. The majority were given to Eleven, for field work, or Two, to be trained as Peacekeepers.

Thom was still raving about Delly Cartwright, but Gale had stopped listening. He didn't want to be assigned a townie. However, his greatest concern this year was being partnered with Katniss. Pairings weren't random. There was some biology to the system that went way over his head. If Katniss was chosen to breed and they were matched, he didn't know what he'd do. Refusing to copulate was against the law. He'd seen others whipped into submission. Those who still refused, a very small number, were never seen again. His family wouldn't survive without him. If he was paired with Katniss, he feared their friendship wouldn't survive.

* * *

Madge picked at the flesh toned bandage taped over the crook of her arm, where the Capitol medics had drawn blood. She imagined them running her fluids through machines that spit out pages of graphs and numbers. Town girls were twice as likely as seam girls to be chosen for breeding. It was the price they paid for privilege. Regular meals meant regular periods. Mrs. Undersee procreated twice before marrying. It was something she never spoke of. Madge had learned the truth from her father, who'd also told how Aunt Maysilee died giving birth at the age of sixteen.

"Maybe you won't be chosen," said Mrs. Undersee. Madge winced. If she wasn't chosen, there was probably something wrong with her and she'd never have children, not even if she married. Then again, as she considered her own dread, waiting for her test results, she couldn't help wondering if that was better. What if someday she had a daughter of her own, who she'd have to sacrifice to the great labor machine? No, this world didn't deserve children. The Capitol produced and used them like commodities.

"Maybe I won't," said Madge. She squeezed her mother's limp, bony hand. They both knew she would be chosen. She was healthy. Her cycle always came on time. She was already thinking of herself in terms of livestock. In District Ten, breeder women were called Sows. In Three, the technology hub, they were called Conveyors...as in conveyor belts. Thankfully in Twelve there was no special term to describe them.

Madge ripped off the bandage to feel the quick sting. She glared at the tiny puncture hole, remembered the medic jabbing her with needles, stealing her blood. Lab rats, she thought, We're all just lab rats.

* * *

 **AN:** I know, I know, I've got like a millions stories going on. Inconsistency and over imagination, my fatal flaws. But I've been wanting to write something dark, more off-script, and this ideas been stuck in my head, so bam-wham-thankyou-ma'am, here goes. This is probably just going to be a mini-fic. I'm still working on my other projects, so fear not if you're reading them. I just tend to jump around a lot :)

 **P.S.** I got this idea from Margaret Atwood's "The Handmaiden's Tale" and all the introductory quotes come from that powerfully beautiful book (which you should definitely read if you haven't!)


	2. Mixed Results

**"Freedom, like everything else, is relative."**

Madge waited at the end of the backdoor path, until Katniss rounded the corner. The two girls met each other halfway and stopped, face to face, in the middle of the lane.

"Guess we should get it over with," said Katniss after a moment. Madge nodded. They set off in silence for the Justice Building. A long line of sixteen year old girls snaked across the square. The atmosphere was mixed. Some girls trembled in anticipation, others in fear. Katniss stood motionless as a statue with an expression cut from stone. Madge tried to emulate her, but her face and body refused to bend to her will.

"It'll be fine," said Katniss under her breath. She brushed the back of her hand lightly against Madge's. As the sun crept higher into the sky, they crept closer to the front of the line. Madge pushed up onto her tiptoes to look out at the row of heads and she wondered how many would be pregnant by month's end. Even with all of the Capitol's careful match-making, only a small number of breeder couples succeeded each year.

Madge's thoughts drifted to her older half-siblings. Did she have a brother, a sister, one of each? What were their names? Where were they now? Did they know they'd come from Twelve? _Do they know about me?_ No, of course not. Breeder offspring had no family. They were raised in orphanages, raised to work. Madge dreamt of finding them someday. She'd never met them, never seen them, but she imagined that their shared blood would call them together.

"Do you ever think about them?" she whispered. It wasn't against the law to speak of the stolen offspring, but it was taboo. Katniss knew who she was alluding to.

"I try not to," she whispered back. Mrs. Everdeen had produced one child in her breeder years. A little girl who she'd called Prim, the same name she later gave to her youngest daughter. Katniss preferred not to think about the other Prim, who probably wasn't called Prim anymore. Breeder women weren't allowed to name their offspring, or hold them, or feed them, or sing them to sleep.

After two hours of agonized waiting, the two girls reached the front of the line. Madge wanted nothing more than to go back to the end. Katniss stepped up to the table first.

"Name please?" said Effie Trinket. She flashed a smile, which Katniss returned with a scowl.

"Katniss Everdeen," she said flatly.

Effie flipped through a stack of cards, until she found the one with Katniss' name stamped across the front in bold, black letters. "Oh dear," she said. "I'm sorry. It appears you're ineligible."

Katniss' tensed shoulders slumped with relief. Her expression remained unchanged. No one was supposed to appear joyful at being denied the honor of breeding. She stepped aside for Madge. Effie didn't bother asking for her name. Everyone knew the mayor's daughter.

 _Please let me be ineligible,_ thought Madge, _please, please, please._ Effie's smile turned blinding. "Congratulations!" she said, pushing a thick packet of papers into Madge's numb hands. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

Madge couldn't move. She felt every drop of blood drain from her head, leaving her brain starved and confused. The common phrase, May the odds be in your favor, pounded between her ears. She was holding up the line.

"Come on," said Katniss, taking her arm to steer her away from Effie Trinket. Madge stumbled along behind her friend. She blinked rapidly, holding tightly the papers she'd been given to keep the wind from tearing them from her hands and scattering the loose pages across the square.

Katniss led her around the side of the Justice Building. In the privacy of shadow, a choked whimper escaped Madge's pale, trembling lips. She collapsed against Katniss' tall, sturdy frame.

"It'll be okay," said Katniss over and over again, as she awkwardly patted Madge on the back, unsure what else to do.

* * *

Hoping to take Madge's mind off of things, Katniss took her to the meadow. They lay on their backs and watched the clouds drift across the sky in silence. After about an hour, Madge had calmed down enough to consider her friend. "I'm sorry," she said, propping herself up onto her elbows.

Katniss cracked open her eyes and asked, "For what?"

"That your tests came back negative."

"But that's a good thing," said Katniss.

"Don't you ever want children?"

"No," said Katniss, without hesitation. She sat up suddenly. "What about you? I mean after you're married."

"Maybe sons," said Madge. Everyone knew it was easier for boys. Many of them enjoyed being breeders. To them it was all the fun with none of the responsibility. They didn't have to carry the results for nine months. Of course no one liked how the breeder offspring were treated. No one liked being a cog in the Capitol's labor machine, but boys and men thought only of principles. They didn't feel the loss in the same way as girls and women. They didn't feel little hearts growing inside of their own bodies.

"You never stop feeling it," Mrs. Undersee had told her once. It was the only time she'd alluded to her other children. "You always feel them here," she'd said, placing her hands over her heart.

* * *

Gale waited for Katniss at their special place in the woods. She was late and his head crowded with worst-case scenarios. On the morning of evaluation day, he'd made her a promise. Breeders were closely monitored during procreation. If they became pregnant, they were monitored for the nine months following. If Katniss was chosen, it could be a long time before she was able to hunt or forage. Gale intended to provide for both of their families in that case. He wouldn't need to worry about Katniss. Should she conceive, she'd be cared for in the Nursery.

"I can't ask you to do that," Katniss had told him. Luckily she didn't need to ask. She was his best friend, his partner, and he loved Prim like one of his own siblings. Even if he and Katniss were paired and their friendship died as a result, he would still care for her family. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

By the time Katniss finally arrived, his nerves had given way to temper. "I thought you'd been caught," he snapped. Katniss shrugged, unperturbed.

"Madge needed me," she said. "She was chosen and-"

"What about you?" said Gale, even more irritated that she'd kept him waiting in agony for Madge Undersee's sake. After all, it wasn't a surprise that she'd been chosen. Town girls usually were. "Well?" he said when Katniss didn't answer quick enough.

"They turned me down," she said. Gale let out a sigh of relief. He wanted to pull her into a bear hug, but knew she'd probably punch him for trying. Her expression was hard to read, even for him sometimes, like now. Was she happy, disappointed? He knew she didn't want to be a breeder, but he didn't know if she ever wanted a family of her own. They talked about nearly everything. Never that.

"So," he said. "Are you, you know, okay with it? Some women still have kids if they aren't chosen." Those cases were rare, but not unheard of.

"I'm fine," said Katniss. "I'm…" She trailed off and let her gaze drift to the valley below. "Relieved," she finished.


	3. Ill-Matched

**AN:** This chapter is messed up on multiple levels. You've been warned. Keep faith, though, there is redemption on the horizon.

* * *

 **"When in doubt, when flat on your back, you can look at the ceiling. Who knows what you might see, up there? Funeral wreaths and angels, constellations of dust, stellar or otherwise, the puzzles left by spiders."**

The tepid bathwater turned black in seconds from the soot. Gale scrubbed vigorously. The coal dust was stubborn, seeming to reside beneath his skin. He gave up. A wave broke over the edge of the tub as he stepped out. For a while, he stared at the clean clothes his mother had left on the sink counter. She'd finished sewing on the new buttons last night, buttons that were a goddamn waste of money. Getting all dressed up just to take your clothes off was beyond stupid.

"Hurry up," his mother said, rapping sharply on the bathroom door. "You can't be late."

Punctuality was important; so was an eager appearance. The Capitol expected him to do his duty with a smile. It's no big deal, he told himself. In, out, and done. You've done this plenty of times. Well, not this. He'd only participated twice in the annual breeding. Both occasions had been painless, perfunctory. He hadn't known the girls, though they were from the seam. They didn't offer their names, he didn't ask. In, out, and done.

Once dressed, he joined his family in the kitchen. "Did you get behind your ears?" his mother asked. She stepped towards him as if to check for herself. Gale held up his hands to fend her off.

"Yeah, I did," he lied.

"Why you gots to get all pretty?" said Posy, squinting at him from head to foot.

Vick and Rory, already struggling to contain their laughter, completely lost hold. Gale glared at them. Rory wouldn't be so amused next year, when he turned sixteen. The boy pretended to know all that went on behind closed doors, and maybe he understood the facts, but he was still innocent to the experience. Vick, understanding even less, only laughed because Rory did.

Gale chose to ignore them this time. He crouched to Posy's level and asked, "You think I'm pretty?"

"The prettiest," she said, and then she kissed his nose. Gale's chest constricted at the sudden thought that, someday, Posy might be chosen to breed. Rory and Vick would be fine, but Posy…

"No," he said, smiling at her to mask the gloom that fell over him. "You're the prettiest."

* * *

"If you don't know him, then don't ask for his name," advised Mrs. Undersee. "If you do know him, then pretend not to."

Madge wondered which was worst? To know them or not to know them? Neither option appealed to her. Nothing about any of this appealed to her. She dragged her feet all the way to the Justice Building and silently begged her mother to stop spouting advice that she didn't want.

"Make as little eye contact as possible and don't make any small talk."

"Can I say hello?" asked Madge.

"You probably shouldn't," said Mrs. Undersee, oblivious to her daughter's sarcasm. "You babble when you're nervous. Just remember that you're there to do one thing only."

Lay back and spread my legs.

The Justice Building loomed formidably against the twilight sky. Madge came to a screeching halt. As much as she hated her mother, right now, she wanted to crawl back into the safety of her womb. She wished desperately that she'd never been born. What if her mate was cruel? The older girls told horror stories about all sorts of terrible men they'd suffered. Her mother hadn't given her any advice for what to do with those men. Madge didn't need her to. Just lay back and spread your legs. That's all there was to do in any scenario.

"What are you doing?" snapped Mrs. Undersee. "We can't be late."

Madge managed to take one step, and then another, and another, even though her body was so heavy that she felt pregnant already.

* * *

Two Peacekeepers led Madge past door after door after door. The third floor of the Justice Building was taken up by breeder apartments. This was a place of nightmares, a place spoken of in hushed rumor. Being here felt surreal. It was exactly as she'd imagined it, suffocating endlessness, door after door after…

The Peacekeepers stopped abruptly. "May the odds be in your favor," the younger one said. He gave her a wink as he pushed her through the door. Madge spun around, intent on slapping him, but it was too late. They'd already locked her in; probably for the best. She pressed her palms to the smooth, simple wood. What she really wanted to do was beat on the door and scream until they let her out. Then they'd assume she was crazy. Mental illness was not tolerated by the Capitol. Squash out the bad genes and reproduce the good ones. So was the way of the world.

Madge couldn't bring herself to turn around and confront the pair of eyes burning into her back. Someone was in the room with her. She did not want to know who.

* * *

There wasn't time for Gale to get a look at the girl's face before she twirled around. From her lace-edged dress and sleek, blonde hair, he knew she was a townie. At least we probably don't know each other, he thought bitterly.

"They're assholes," he said. The girl twitched. "The Peacekeepers, I mean. Just ignore them." He tried to be nice, helpful, though his every instinct was to hate her just for being a townie. She stayed glued to the door. He began to wonder what the hell was wrong with her; then, slowly, she turned around. Gale met her blue eyes and felt he'd fallen through ice. He kicked desperately for the surface, searched for a break in the ice, an exit from disastrous reality.

"You," hissed Madge Undersee.

* * *

It had to be him, the boy she hated most in the world, of all the eligible breeder men in Twelve. This nightmare she hadn't foreseen. It was unthinkable, a cruel joke. Neither of them laughed. After a long silence, Gale cleared his throat and said, "Guess we should get it over with."

No leapt to the tip of Madge's tongue. She barely caught it in time. No was not an option, for either of them.Pretend you don't know him. He is no one. He's nothing.

"You want to...um…" Gale gestured at her legs. Did she want to what? Lie on her back, open wide, get it over with? "Take off your tights," he finished.

No, no, no, she thought, even as she reached her trembling hands under her dress, being careful not to raise the hem. Sliding off her tights felt like shedding skin. Get it over with. Be brave. Be dignified. Be proud.

Gale took a forward step and she stumbled against the door. So much for bravery, dignity, or pride. Glaring down at his feet, he muttered, "Mind if I do it from behind?"

The question disgusted her. He was so blunt, so...so uncivilized. Then again, her mother had warned her against small talk. In this room, she wasn't the mayor's daughter and he wasn't a dirty, rude boy from the seam. They were factory parts, no more.

Madge tried to say yes, but that stubborn no lodged in her throat. She nodded instead, and then turned back to the door. The bed was too far away. She didn't trust her legs to carry her there.

"Pretty dress," said Gale. His breath scalded her ear. When he pushed into her, she bit through her tongue to keep from crying out. Blood filled her mouth. She didn't spit it out, though it drowned her, because she was afraid that if she parted her lips even a little, then a thousand NOs would burst out of her. The tears, however, she couldn't hold in.

* * *

For his own sake, as well as Undersee's, Gale did what was required as quickly as possible. He closed his eyes to not see her blonde curls, a sobering reminder of who she was. In, out, done. The end couldn't come soon enough. Even with his eyes closed, he couldn't forget. He had to pause, withdraw, get hard again in the self-sufficient way. Madge waited, perfectly still, perfectly silent.

Finally, after a good deal of gruelling effort, he peaked. For one second, he did forget, he relished the give of her plump hips under his fingertips. Seam girls were all bristle and bone, nothing to cling to. Then the second passed. He was limp, spent, and absolutely repulsed by himself, and her, and the Capitol.

* * *

Gale waited for her to put on her tights and underwear. Then, without another word to her, he knocked on the door to signal that they were finished. The Peacekeeper who'd winked at her was the one who came to relieve them. Madge kept her head down, making a veil of her hair to hide her tear-stained face.

"That was fast," the Peacekeeper said.

Fast? Madge felt a century had passed while she was locked in that room with Gale Hawthorne.


	4. Next Day Shame

**AN:** Poor Katniss. Just to be clear, her relationship with Gale is 100% platonic in this fic. Thanks for reading, following, favoriting.

* * *

 **"You can't help what you feel, but you can help how you behave."**

Late in the night, Madge fell asleep in the tub. She woke to the red light of morning, red like the blood on her thighs that she'd scrubbed long after the stains were gone. After twelve hours of soaking, she still felt dirty, and her neck ached from having been bent over the porcelain edge of the tub for so long.

Madge was tying her robe, when her mother entered the bathroom without knocking and said, "Have you been in here all night?"

"Yes," said Madge. As if you didn't already know. Mrs. Undersee pursed her lips, but said no more.

"Peeta's downstairs," she said. "He's been waiting a long time."

Yesterday, Madge wouldn't have bothered changing out of her fluffy robe just to greet Peeta. They'd been friends since their diaper days. There was no shame, no secrets, between them. But after last night, she needed clothes like armor, something to protect her, something to hide what a dirty thing her body was now.

* * *

Peeta came with an offering of baked goods.

"Your mom let you have these?" asked Madge as she picked morosely at a strawberry muffin, her favorite. She wasn't hungry.

"Dad made them before she woke up," said Peeta. "He thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up."

Madge forced a smile. "That was very sweet of him. Pass on my thanks."

"Are they alright? You're not eating."

She took a big bite. Muffin stuck to the roof of her mouth like dry plaster. Peeta watched her chew. She was so pale. She kept her arms tucked in at her sides, legs crossed, spine bent inwards, making herself small. He'd never seen her cower before. She was the mayor's daughter. To see her this way was both terrified and inflamed him.

"Did he hurt you?" asked Peeta.

Madge shifted. "No," she muttered. The physical pain was nothing. She was sore, she'd felt worse. There was a wound deeper than flesh, she couldn't describe to Peeta, or anyone. He didn't need a description to know it was there. He leaned forward, eyes fiercely burning, and voice gentle as rain, "Who was he?"

Madge shifted again. She'd sworn to herself not to tell. She hated Gale Hawthorne, always had, and after last night she didn't hate him any less, or any more. He'd been unkind, teased her pretty dress, so what? That was typical behavior. He'd treated her like an object. That was expected for the situation. He'd hurt her. Any other man probably would've done the same. She didn't want to slander him for events beyond his control, despite that he'd never shown the same consideration. Be the better person. Be dignified, be proud, be…

"It's Gale," she blurted. Peeta's warm, brotherly concern was too much. She hated keeping secrets from him. She just couldn't do it.

"Hawthorne?" he said, closing his hands into fists. "What did he do?"

"Nothing," said Madge. "Only what he had to."

Peeta winced. Hawthorne had a well-known reputation. His hatred for Madge was no secret either. No wonder she was so pale. Gale Hawthorne probably hadn't shown her a hint of kindness and she had four nights left to endure.

"Don't pick a fight," said Madge, straightening up suddenly. "Let it go. I just want to get this over with, alright?"

"Alright," said Peeta. Like hell was he just going to let it go…

* * *

Katniss was heading home from the Hob, when Peeta Mellark stormed out of nowhere.

"We need to talk," he snapped, planting himself in her path. She scowled at him, more annoyed than surprised. What did the baker's boy want with her? They'd never once spoken directly to each other. She was about to tell him to fuck off…

Then she remembered the day he gave her the bread. Her father had only been dead a month. They would have starved that night, had it not been for the baker's boy. Katniss realized that she owed him. She didn't like being indebted. A few minutes conversation for two burnt loaves of bread seemed like a fair trade. "Fine," she said. "Talk fast."

"Tell your friend," snarled Peeta. "If he hurts Madge again, I'll kill him."

Katniss knew who he meant. After all, she only had one friend besides Madge. "What the hell are you talking about?" she said. "Gale hasn't done anything."

Peeta snorted and, despite herself, Katniss blushed. "Okay, so he teases her sometimes," she said. "That's no reason to threaten his-"

"You don't know," said Peeta, looking at her curiously. "I thought Hawthorne would've told you by now."

"Told me what?"

"He and Madge are mates," said Peeta. "She won't tell me what happened, but I've never seen so...so…" He couldn't explain. Just thinking about how broken she'd looked this morning made him too furious for words.

After a minute of silence, punctuated only by Peeta's heavy breathing, Katniss said, "I'll talk to him."

"Really?" said Peeta, shocked by how easily she gave in.

"Madge is my friend, too," she reminded him. She knew exactly where Gale was, seeking solitude in the woods. She had no intentions of letting him find it. While she loved Gale like a brother, she also knew better than anyone what an asshole he could be.

* * *

Katniss snuck up on him. One minute, he was alone, and the next she was beating her fists against his back. Gale slipped on the damp carpet of leaves in mid-turn and she took the opportunity to cuff him across the jaw while he regained his balance.

"What the hell?" he said, snagging hold of her wrists.

"What did you do?" she hissed. Her eyes were slit like a cat's. She resembled Buttercup right then, but he knew better than to mention that observation aloud.

"Well," he said. "Let's see, I came out to hunt and then you ambushed me."

Katniss jerked free of his grip. He let her go, prepared to defend himself. Truth be told, she frightened him when she got this angry. It didn't happen often. The few times they'd really fought, he came out on the losing end.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you?" he said.

Katniss had trouble using her words when she was upset. "Madge," she forced out. "What did you do to Madge?" Somehow, without striking him, she knocked the breath right out of him.

"Who told you we were mated?" he said, firing a question at her question in a juvenile distraction attempt.

"Peeta," she answered promptly.

"Mellark?" said Gale in disbelief. "Since when do you talk to him?"

"Since he threatened to kill you a few hours ago."

Gale laughed. As if the baker's boy could so much as scratch him.

"This isn't funny," said Katniss, shoving the heels of her palms into his chest. Gale swatted her hands away.

"I don't know what bread boy told you," he said, "but I didn't do anything to Undersee, besides what the Capitol required."

"Did you even try to be nice about it?"

"I barely touched her and I kept my insults to myself."

"Did you talk to her at all?"

"You want a detailed account?" said Gale. "I can write it all down for you, so you can really analyze every single-"

Katniss shoved him again. She definitely did not want a detailed account of what happened between her only two friends in the Justice Building. She just wanted a general estimate of how much of a jerk he'd been.

"Did you treat her like you'd have treated me?" she asked.

"That's different," said Gale. "You're my friend."

"I'm a person," she corrected. "So is Madge. She deserves the same respoect."

"It's not like she was warm and welcoming," he said, refusing to admit to a crime

he hadn't committed. He hadn't been cruel, just cold, same as Undersee. He clearly remembered the way she'd glared at him, as if their situation was his fault.

"Of course she wasn't," said Katniss. "It was her first time. She was petri-"

"What?" Gale took a step back, feeling sick. "She didn't tell me that."

Katniss rolled her eyes. "Did she need to?"

"Uh, yeah. How was I supposed to know it was her first time?"

"She's never even seriously dated anyone," said Katniss, no longer angry, just exasperated.

"What about Mellark?" said Gale. "I thought they were together."

"Just friends."

"So, last night really was…"

"Yeah," said Katniss. "Look, I'm not asking you to like her. Don't worry, I gave up on that a long time ago." She paused to collect her thoughts. "And I know how much you hate this, so just think about how she feels. That's not an unreasonable request."

Gale had to admit that it wasn't that unreasonable. Now that he knew Undersee had been a virgin, he was guilty over his behavior. "I'll be nicer to her," he finally said.

"Good," said Katniss. "Because if you aren't, then I'll kill you before Mellark even gets a chance." She punched his shoulder to prove she meant business, but the hit was barely more than an affectionate tap.


	5. Mutt

**"She did not believe he was a monster. He was not a monster, to her. Probably he had some endearing trait…"**

Madge arrived to the Justice Building first on the second night. To distract herself while waiting, she studied the room. There wasn't much to look at; a narrow bed made up with stark white sheets, a wooden side table, to hold a plastic pitcher of water and two plastic cups. She struggled to breathe in the stuffy confinement of the room. If only there was a window that she could lean her head out of, let the breeze of early Spring cool her flushed cheeks.

Of course there was no window. If there'd been one, she might jump. Madge had heard of breeder women who jumped, not to escape, but to die. Before becoming one of them, she hadn't understood. Now she saw that choosing to die was the only way to retake ownership of their own bodies, to say NO.

Madge clung to her convictions. She would not let go, she would not jump. Perhaps there was some small victory in death. Small victories, however, don't win wars.

* * *

Undersee appeared lost in thought. She didn't notice Gale leaning against the wall, watching her, curious about what she was thinking. His promise to Katniss was too big for this tiny room. He wished there was just one goddamn window. He tugged at his collar, wilted by the muggy heat of their shared cell. Be kind. The voice in his head sounded remarkably like Katniss. Being kind wasn't supposed to be difficult.

Being kind required patience. All he wanted was to charge through the next four nights and then forget them. It was easier for the boys; it was not easy. Gale did not want to force himself on any woman, enemy or not. With his previous two partners, experienced and numb to the process, he hadn't felt to blame for their misery. He hadn't felt responsible for them in any way. Being kind wasn't something he knew how to do in such an unkind situation.

After a few minutes, Gale cleared his throat to announce himself. Madge leapt around. Her expression flashed from shock, to rage, to terror, and then her face went blank, which was somehow worse. In all the years that he'd teased her, she always came back swinging harder. He wanted her to do that now, be normal.

"Hi," he said.

Madge remembered her mother's warning against saying hello. She realized there was power in withholding something so small. She had to be here. She didn't have to like it, or actively participate. She hadn't even worn tights this time...less work, less time. "Are you ready?" she asked briskly. This time, she wouldn't cry. She knew what to expect, she was prepared.

Gale was not. Be kind. But how? Should I kiss her? Had she ever been kissed? He didn't want to steal that first from her as well. Talking seemed like the best place to start. Talk about what? The weather? Anything else might end in a fight. He wondered what was wrong with him, that made being kind so impossible.

"The strawberries will be ripe soon," he blurted. Madge's brow creased for a moment; then her face went blank again.

"Oh."

Of course, thought Gale, when they are ripe, I won't be going with Katniss to sell them. He couldn't entirely avoid her at school, but after this, going directly to her house would be unwise. There'd be no more sparring matches at her backdoor, no more snippy arguments at lunch, or acknowledging each other in any way outside of this room. Would he miss her? Can you miss someone you hate? They'd been fighting each other for longer than either of them befriended Katniss. Strange that he just now realized how much a part of his life Madge Undersee really was, only on the verge of losing her entirely.

"Well, are you ready or not?" said Madge.

"Are you?" said Gale. He meant to be considerate, but the words hit his own ears like pebbles dropped into an empty, tin bucket.

Madge stepped out of her underwear, folded them neatly, and placed them on the side table, a silly place for panties. They belonged carelessly discarded on the floor. "I'm ready," she said, turning to the wall.

"We don't have to do it that way," said Gale. Madge paused mid-turn. The way she looked at him, he felt worse than he thought possible, stupid really, because he learned a long time ago that things can always get worse. In Undersee's dead blue eyes, his reflection was inhuman. He was a Capitol mutt, doing as he was bid.

"What way do you want?" asked Madge.

"Doesn't matter," he muttered. "However you're comfortable."

Comfortability proved an elusive concept. Her eyes swept the barren room and came back to him. "Like before is fine," she said.

"You could…" Gale looked to his feet. "We could, um, use the…" He gestured at the bed.

"Fine," said Madge. One place was as good as any other. "But I don't want to look at you," she added,

startling herself. She meant to be passive, but this one condition leapt out of her. Her words clearly struck a mark. Good, let him suffer a little.

But no. Madge tore her eyes away from Gale. He already suffered in ways she could never understand. She hated him for hating her. The Capitol tricked them into hating each other. If she hated him for what happened in this room, then the Capitol won.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean-"

"You don't have to explain anything to me," he said, cutting her off out of kindness. He hoped she took it that way.

* * *

Gale slunk home through the dark. Tonight had been a disaster, kindness gone horribly awry. Putting himself into Undersee's shoes had only led to a lot of muttered apologies, which the mayor's daughter ignored, while he tried to get it up.

I'm sorry. He was still thinking the words. I'm so sorry. He stopped walking when the clouds parted overhead and he bowed his head under the silvery condemnation of the pregnant moon.

"I'm sorry," he said to the moon, who didn't want to hear it anymore than Undersee.

* * *

Madge didn't bother to bathe. She gathered every unused blanket in the house and built a cocoon. When she broke free, she'd be a butterfly, with wings. She wouldn't need to jump. I'll just fly away. It was just a dream. She knew she'd always be a legless caterpillar, little better than a worm.

What was Gale Hawthorne, then? The hawk swooping in to kill? No, he didn't have wings, either. He wasn't to blame. She believed that, but couldn't make herself feel it. Fifty-seven, the number of times he'd apologized. What was he sorry for, being so disgusted by her that he couldn't do his part?

It's not his fault. No matter how many times she thought it, she did blame him, in her heart. Right or wrong, she couldn't help it.


	6. Desperate Times

**"The tension between her lack of control and her attempt to suppress it is horrible."**

Buttercup waited for Prim outside of school. He didn't have a meow to spare for either Katniss or Madge. He sauntered up to Prim and dropped a headless mouse at her feet.

"For me?" said Prim, bending down to scratch him between his tattered ears. "You shouldn't have, Buttercup."

With Prim and Buttercup leading the way, they set off for the meadow. Katniss stuck back with Madge, who'd spoken in monosyllable all day, leaving it up to Katniss to fill the silence for once. She ran out of hunting stories, the few without Gale, at lunch, and she didn't know where to go from here. There was only one thing they were both thinking about, but neither dared talk about that out loud.

"The strawberries will be ripe soon," said Katniss.

Of course, Madge already knew, thanks to Gale. She didn't want to think about last night, yet when she least expected, something reminded her, usually small things, an innocent comment about strawberries that left her sick and breathless.

"I thought you could come with me to pick them this year," said Katniss.

Madge wrapped her arms around her flat, empty stomach and squeezed hard. If I'm not pregnant. For all she knew, something was already growing in there, something that would be ripe in nine months, ready for picking. She imagined her stomach bursting with strawberries.

"What's so funny?" said Katniss.

Madge didn't know why she was laughing. The sound died in her throat and sank into her stomach, to decay and fertilize. "Nothing," she muttered. "Nothing's funny."

* * *

The traps were all empty. Gale decided to check on the strawberries, even though he knew they weren't ready. It was a two hour hike there and back. Two hours to think, come up with a plan, a solution, anything.

Nearing the fence on his return journey, he had nothing. There was no plan, no solution, nothing that would make things right, at least easier. One idea glowed weakly, on and off, caught in his head like a firefly in a glass jar. Refuse. But the penalty for that was death. It was treason not to breed. Without him, his family would starve.

For the first time in his life, Gale wanted to kill for the sake of killing, not from hunger. A twig snapped to his left. He strung his bow as he turned to find a spotted fawn, staring at him with velvet black eyes. It's vacant expression reminded him of Undersee. Run, he thought, bow raised. Why won't you run? The fawn continued to stare at him. Where was it's mother? Why was it alone, unprotected, easy prey?

Gale released the bowstring. His arrow lodged deep in the trunk of a pine less than a foot from the fawn. "Run!" he shouted. "Get out of here, dumbass! Go!"

The fawn bolted. It's pelt would have fetched a nice price. He could've made new gloves for the kids. Right then, he didn't want to kill the fawn for either of those reasons, so he let it go.

* * *

"Done," said Prim, offering up the last daisy crown to her sister.

"I'm not wearing that," said Katniss.

"I'm wearing one," said Prim. "Madge is wearing her's. I worked hard on these."

Katniss refused to yield. She hadn't worn flowers in her hair since before her father died. "And I told you not to bother making me one."

"Oh, come on," said Madge. "We can all be queens."

Not that again, thought Katniss. Last year, Madge was obsessed with pre-Panem politics, especially queens...whatever they were. Katniss hadn't understood, or cared about, most of what Madge had told her.

"What are queens?" asked Prim. Katniss groaned inwardly at the gleam in Madge's eyes that always preceded a long rant about something ancient and obsolete Here we go again. Despite the subject matter, Katniss was glad to hear her speak, to see her cheeks flush passionately as she really got going, spouting words phrases, like feudal system and divine right, that meant absolutely nothing to the Everdeen girls.

Prim tried to follow, but her attention, as well as her gaze, soon began to drift. Her eyes slid past Katniss and Madge to the woods. There was someone creeping along the edge of the meadow, keeping close to the fence. She squinted at the distant figure, wondered what they were doing, and then lit up when she realized who it was.

"Gale," she cried, leaping to her feet.

Madge wilted in an instant.

* * *

So much for sneaking past them unnoticed. Gale was tempted to pretend that he hadn't heard Prim, but didn't want to hurt her feelings, so he gathered his courage and approached. It was inevitable, running into Undersee outside of the Justice Building, in broad daylight, exposed. District Twelve wasn't that big. They couldn't avoid each other completely, especially with Katniss strung between them.

Last week, in this situation, he would have marched up to Undersee and given her a snarky reminder not to get grass stains on her pretty dress. Perhaps that was the kindest course of action. Be normal, pretend nothing had changed.

Then Madge looked at him over her shoulder. Their eyes locked for less than a second, plenty long enough for him to receive her silent message. Stay away. Stay far, far away. For once, he let her win without putting up any fight. He changed direction mid-step and fled.

* * *

"Where's he going?" asked Prim, disappointed.

Katniss stared after Gale. She'd never known him to run from anyone or anything. She wanted to go after him, but couldn't leave Madge, who was watching Buttercup heave a furball as if she might soon join him.

"Go talk to him," she said, sending Prim in her place. Oblivious as she was, because she was oblivious, she'd probably be more of a comfort to him, any way.

Prim hurried after Gale. He paused to let her catch up. As soon as she reached him, she held out the daisy crown that Katniss refused to wear, and, of course, he crouched to let her place it on his head.

"He's trying," said Katniss.

Madge said nothing for a long time. She watched Prim and Gale, joined hand to hand, grow smaller in the distance. Then she dropped her gaze to Buttercup's soggy furrball in the grass. "So am I," she said. Neither of them was succeeding. That much was painfully obvious.

* * *

Katniss couldn't talk to Gale or Madge, so she found herself where she'd never dreamed of being found, the bakery. She waited in the same place where, four years ago, she shivered in the rain, starving. Like then, she refused to go to the door, to ask for help. Like then, she didn't need to.

Peeta saw her through the window. When his mother went to the storeroom for more sugar, he slipped outside and met her at the edge of the yard. "I don't have much time," he said, knowing already why she'd come. It wasn't bread she wanted. Still, he tossed her a loaf, fresh from the oven, hot enough to blister his fingers. His mother would notice it was missing. She'd make him pay. He didn't care.

Katniss accepted the bread without protest. She didn't want to waste the little time they had. "We need to-"

"I know," said Peeta, anticipating her words. We need to help them. He took a pouch of stolen credit, which his mother would also notice was missing, from his apron pocket. "Take this to Ripper."

Katniss frowned at the money. "It's illegal," she said. "If they're caught-"

"They won't be," said Peeta. "Everyone does it. The Peacekeepers don't care as long as the job gets done."

He was right, of course. Ripper's business boomed this time of year. Liquor sold like medicine. He called his wares a cure-all. Katniss doubted a few drinks would do much good for Gale and Madge, but she was desperate and figured it was worth a shot. After all, things couldn't get worse between them. She snatched the pouch from Peeta's hand.


	7. Pinched Feet

**"I didn't much like it, this grudge-holding against the past."**

Later that same day, when Peeta made a delivery to the mayor's house, he confessed to Madge his clandestine meeting with Katniss.

"I don't want to get drunk with him," said Madge. The two of them stood whispering in the foyer. "What were you thinking? And since when do you go around plotting with Katniss behind my back?"

"We weren't plotting," said Peeta. "If you'd just listen-"

"No, you listen," she snapped, shifting the heavy bread basket to her other hip. "I told you to stay out of this. I don't ask you what goes on with whoever you're partnered with."

"I don't know them. If I did, I'd tell you. Besides-"

Madge shushed him. She thought she heard her mother coming down the stairs. They listened a moment to the sound of water running, then silence, followed by the soft click of her parent's bedroom door closing. Certain that no one was coming, Peeta used Madge's distraction to his advantage.

"I'm only trying to help you," he said. "I'm sorry if I made things worse, but I don't know how else-"

"If?" said Madge, glaring at him.

"Just give it a try. It's easier when you're not stuck in your own head."

"You want me to be like Haymitch," she said. For her to mention Haymitch, meant she was angrier than he'd thought. That name was never uttered in the Undersee household. Haymitch Abernathy was the one who'd impregnated Maysilee Donner at sixteen. Twenty-four years later, and Mrs. Undersee still blamed the man for her sister's death; however, no one blamed Haymitch as much as himself. He was still trying to drink himself to death, or drink himself into forgetfulness, no one dared ask which.

"That isn't what I want at all," said Peeta. "You're not going to turn into Abernathy. I know you, Madge. You're a fighter. The Capitol says you're not allowed to drink, so fuck them, forget about them. Rebel where you can."

Madge shifted the the bread basket again. It was heavy, but she didn't rush through her contemplation of Peeta's advice. She was still angry with both him and Katniss; yet she was a little relieved to have someone speak so openly to her. She and Peeta had a lifetime of friendship to help them through conversations such as this, while she and Gale only had a lifetime of bitter animosity.

Perhaps Peeta had point, loathe as she was to admit it. In a decade, she and Gale hadn't managed to agree on a single thing. Maybe they'd get along better drunk. It happened sometimes. She normally couldn't tolerate Delly Cartwright's bubbly, busy-body personality, but when Peeta dragged her to parties, she and Delly always wound up together. Then again, she didn't hate Delly near as much as she hated Gale, and what happened in that awful room was far from a party.

Madge could weigh the pros and cons for a lifetime, but she only had an hour before she was supposed to be at the Justice Building. "Fine," she said. "But I swear, the next time you or Katniss make a decision for me that's not yours to make, then we're finished." She couldn't prevent the Capitol from making decisions for her. She'd be damned if she let her friends, even with the best of intentions, steal what little control she had left.

"It won't happen again," said Peeta. She trusted he meant it.

* * *

The flask was jammed between the wall and the headboard, exactly where Peeta told her it'd be. Madge knelt at the top of the bed and squeezed her arm into the narrow gap of the room's only hiding place. She got stuck at elbow. Her sweaty fingers slipped over the battered, silver flask.

"What are you doing, Undersee?"

Madge whipped her head around to find Gale leaning against the door. She wondered how long he'd been watching her struggle. "I bought from Ripper," she said, and then went back to work.

She was lying and Gale knew it, same as he knew Katniss had lied to him earlier when he asked where she got the money to trade with Ripper. He hadn't bought her bullshit story about using the coin she had stored away for emergencies. No one in the seam had savings. The money came from Mellark. He knew that, too, though he pretended not to. Madge and Katniss lied, because they expected him to blow a fuse over the whole thing, given his zero tolerance policy for charity. Really, he was faintly amused by the idea of Katniss and breadboy sneaking around together. Besides, the booze wasn't charity. It hadn't been bought specifically for him, so he felt free to make use of the gift.

After watching Madge struggle a while longer, Gale dropped the floor, flipped onto his back, and shimmied under the bed. He knew from past experience that the flask was closer to the ground than the top of the headboard. A few hard nudges and it came unstuck. He resurfaced. Madge had moved to the center of the bed, warily watching him, her knees tucked under her skirt. Gale stayed on the floor. He unscrewed the lid of the flask, took a swig, and then tossed the flask onto the bed, where it landed with a soft thump within her reach.

"Cheers," he said, more bitterly than he intended.

* * *

Careful not to touch each other even the slightest bit, they passed the flask back and forth in silence. Gale was tempted to drain the whole thing in one burning gulp, but restrained himself to small sips, not wanting a repeat of last night's...embarrassing difficulties. Madge was less restrained. Her tolerance was higher than he expected. She drank the liquor like it was water.

"What?" she said, suddenly breaking the silence of their ritual.

"What what?" he asked back.

"You're staring at me."

Gale dropped his gaze to his hands, clasped in his lap. "I'm surprised, that's all," he said. "Never pegged you for much of a drinker, being the mayor's daughter and all."

Madge couldn't discern if he meant to compliment or insult her. Either way it didn't matter. Peeta had been right. It helped to get outside of her own head. She concentrated on the sluggish warmth oozing through her bloodstream, the sweet sting of liquor at the back of her throat, and the room became almost tolerable. She found that she could talk to Gale Hawthorne, even look at him, without wanting to claw his face off.

"Townies," she said, lips curling scathingly around the word, "party too, you know."

"Yeah, I know," said Gale. "You don't seem the type."

"Because you know me so well," she snapped, anger rising up like a tongue of flame. Gale ducked his head. He flushed bright red from his dark hairline to the white collar of his shirt, and she regretted snapping. For once, it seemed he wasn't trying to insult her.

"I don't like parties much," she admitted. "My dad hosts a lot of them, though. They're hard to get through sober." Kind of like this. Only she couldn't sneak off with Peeta to get wasted in the garden, or bathroom, or whatever quiet place they could carve out for themselves in a world where someone was almost always watching. The door to this room was locked. It would stay that way until…

Madge wasn't ready to remember why she was here. She held the flask to Gale, but he waved it away and leaned back onto his elbows. Now she stared at him. He let her scrutinize him, pretending not to notice, for a long time. Finally, she drained the last of the flask, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and said, "Why do you hate me so much?"

Gale sat up straight. "I don't," he said, startled by his answer. Madge let loose a snort, which turned into a hiccup.

"Uh, yeah, you do," she said. "You always have."

Gale tipped his head back to stare up at the ceiling. When he didn't say anything, Madge continued, "I don't care that you hate me. Just trying to understand what I did to you that made you-"

"You didn't do anything," said Gale, looking back down. "I don't…" He trailed off. At the very least, she deserved the truth, even if it wasn't kind or rational. "I remember the first time I saw you. It was your first day of school. You had on these white, strappy shoes."

"I remember them," said Madge, surprised that he did.

"Well, it's rained the night before," he went on. "You got stuck in the mud and started crying, because your shoes were ruined." He shifted to his knees and leaned into the edge of the bed. "I didn't get it. I mean, you didn't need those shoes. It's not like you're a seam kid, with one pair to last a whole year."

"That's why you hate me?" she said, frowning. She didn't bother explaining that she'd only cried, knowing how angry her mother would be with her. "Because of my shoes?"

"No," he said. "You're not listening."

"I am," she said. "You're not making sense."

Gale heaved a sigh. He tried to make sense of it himself, something he'd never done. Introspection was still new to him. He preferred not to analyze his emotions, afraid of what might be unearthed in the process.

"Look," he said. "You've never had to walk around on pins and needles with your feet crammed in shoes that are too small. That's a reason to cry."

"You don't get decide why people cry," said Madge.

"I know," he said. "It just made me angry, alright. It's unreasonable. I get that, but come on, I was only seven and…" He trailed off again, picking at a loose thread in the white sheets. Madge softened just a little. He was wrong. She'd worn shoes that were too small, never for longer than a week. She wriggled her toes, unable to imagine what it was like to live with that pain and discomfort every day. To be fair, it probably would have made her irritable, too.

"And your feet hurt," she finished for him.

"All the time," said Gale. Impulsively, he reached for her hand. She flinched, kept her fist closed tight, but didn't pull away. "I hate your shoes," he said, tentatively running his thumb over the ridges of her knuckles. "I hate that my sister can't have pretty dresses and that she cries because she's so hungry sometimes, while people like you-"

Madge drew back. "People like me?"

"Lucky people," he said. Even as he spoke the words, he realized how absurd they were. Madge wasn't lucky, not anymore. They weren't children. He needed to let go of his immature prejudice. Maybe at five years old, she hadn't understood pain, but she did now and she wasn't crying. For that, he admired her.

"I don't hate you," he said again. "Hell, I…" He pulled his fingers through his hair, and then forced himself to look her straight in the eyes. "Like you said, I don't know you, so how could I hate you?"

"I can't stand milk," she said, blurting the first thing that popped into her head. "And I'd rather be barefoot than wear shoes. I like the way grass feels, especially in summer."

Gale smiled timidly at her and she nearly laughed. It was odd to see him act sheepish, unsure of himself, when he'd always presented such an arrogant front. "Guess we have something in common," he said. While it wasn't much, it was a place to start.


	8. Stomach Bug

**"I wish I was ignorant, so I didn't know how ignorant I am."**

Madge picked at her breakfast under her mother's disapproving scrutiny. "You're too pale," declared Mrs. Undersee. "There's a bug going around. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," said Madge. She had a mild hangover, nothing more.

"Did you sleep any last night?"

"Enough."

Mrs. Undersee pursed her lips. "I heard you pacing around half the night," she said. "You need a solid eight hours of sleep."

Madge's fork slipped through her fingers, struck the edge of the table, and somersaulted to the floor with a dull thud. She didn't bother to retrieve it. "I've got a lot on my mind," she said, glowering at her mother across the table.

Mrs. Undersee pressed her fingertips to her temples, closed her eyes a moment, and sighed. She opened her eyes and said, "I swear it's like you want to be miserable."

Madge was glad she'd dropped her fork. If it was still in her hand, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from flinging it at her mother. I am trying, she thought. There was no point saying the words out loud. If anyone should understand what she was going through, it was her mother, but Madge expected no compassion for her.

"Stop sulking," said Mrs. Undersee. "You're not a child, Margaret. Now drink your milk."

Madge obeyed like the child she supposedly wasn't.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Madge stopped at the end of the street, out of her mother's sight. She doubled over and heaved up the toast, the eggs, the milk, everything, glad to see it all go. She wished she was sick. Then she'd be excused from the rest of her procreation week. She straightened up, wiped the dribble from her chin, and set off for school. Her legs ached from pacing all night. Walk it off. Just walk it off.

Perhaps she did want to be miserable. Everyone else seemed to be holding up just fine. Peeta never complained. Neither did Gale and she suspected that he was just as miserable as she was. She felt his unwillingness. She remembered how he couldn't look at her, how he'd tripped into the Peacekeeper who relieved them in his haste to leave the room, to leave her. She felt sick again just thinking about it.

Madge stopped when the school came into sight. A third of her classmates were breeders. They swapped stories in the hallway, whispered during class, and sometimes, they even laughed. No one complained. They all accepted, made the best, walked it off. She wanted to be like them. She wanted not to care, not to be miserable. Everything considered, she supposed she was lucky to have Gale for a mate. He was trying, for Katniss' sake probably, but trying all the same.

"Madge, wait up!"

She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of her name and saw Delly, straw-blonde braids swinging wildly as she ran to catch up. Madge forced a strained smile. "Hey," she said, trying to sound chipper. The greeting fell flat.

Delly took a moment to catch her breath. "Hi," she finally said. "Do you have a second?"

Madge checked her watch, hoping that school was about to start, and was disappointed to find that there was plenty of time to spare. She was early, as usual, even with her pit stop to puke. "Yeah, sure," she said. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine, fine," said Delly. "I wanted to talk to you about Gale. I heard you two were having some, erm, problems."

Madge took a step back. Her eyes went wide. Delly, oblivious to her reaction, babbled on, "I know how hard the first year can be. It's rotten luck that you got Gale, considering you guys can't stand each other, but…" a sly smile crept across her lips. "...that tension can be used to your advantage. I mean, I used to loathe Thom, but after we were paired last year, well, all of that anger made for some really great-"

"Who told you?" said Madge, finding her voice at last. Surely Peeta hadn't told her? He was friends with Delly, but Madge had told him to keep quiet. It wasn't like him to break a promise.

"Thom," said Delly. "He said you were kind of baffled, which is totally understandable. It's not like you have much experience, so if you ever need any advice, I've got plenty. I know you talk to Peeta, but he's a boy. I just thought you might want to talk to someone who understands."

Madge couldn't hear over the blood rushing through her head. HEr face radiated heat. Who else knew? Who else had been discussing her private life, pitying her? She imagined Thom and Delly whispering to each other about how pathetically innocent she was. She'd never been so mortified.

Then a gust of laughter slammed into her. Before she even turned, she knew who the sound came from. That laugh had been directed at her enough times for her to recognize it instantly, even with were brain scrambled by a hangover and Delly's good-hearted, if disastrous, offer. When she did turn and saw Gale, with Thom of all people, she lost it. They weren't laughing at her. They didn't even notice her. Still, she felt ambushed. Between fight and flight, she almost always chose to fight.

Delly was still talking. "Excuse me," said Madge. She marched right up to Gale Hawthorne. His laughter died as soon as he saw her coming. Without breaking stride, she punched him square on the nose, felt cartilage crack violently under her fist, and then, without sparing a glance at the damage she'd inflicted, she kept walking.

* * *

Gale sat at the Everdeen's kitchen table and sipped the bitter herb tea Mrs. Everdeen gave him for the pain. "Nothing else to do for it. Just don't blow your nose any time soon," she'd said as she hurried from the room, to check on Prim, home sick with the stomach bug. Now he was alone with Katniss, also home sick, but with just enough energy to glare daggers at him from her makeshift cot across the room.

"I didn't do anything," he said, finally meeting her accusatory stare. "I swear."

"Madge wouldn't have broken your nose for nothing," she croaked, barely moving her lips, just in case her stomach decided to eject.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure she had a reason," said Gale. He looked to the inky dregs of his tea cup. Undersee's reasons were a mystery to him. Oddly, he wasn't angry. The shock had worn off around the time his nose stopped bleeding, leaving him simply confused. I thought we had a truce. Obviously he thought wrong. Now he was back to not knowing what to think.

His nose stung, Katniss kept glaring, and here came a splitting headache. "Just stop it," he said, suddenly furious. "Stop looking at me like I'm a criminal. I'm doing everything I can, alright, but there are only so many options. I can't do much of anything without her cooperation."

He cringed at his own word choice. He didn't blame Undersee for being resistant. The anger drained out of him as quickly as it flared. He slumped into her chair, feeling as if all his bones were broken, not just his nose. "I don't know how to talk to her," he said, sounding so tired and defeated, Katniss had to take pity. Glaring and griping at him were counterproductive.

"Then write a letter," she said. Next second, she flung her head over the cot and heaved into the rusty, tin bucket on the floor. Gale stamped down his own problems for the moment and went to her.

"That's the spirit, Catnip," he said, holding back her hair. "Up and out."

* * *

After Katniss fell asleep, he tore a blank page from her school notebook and settled in to write the mayor's daughter a letter, his first letter to anyone. He didn't know where to begin. Dear Madge? To whom it may concern? Eventually, he simply wrote Undersee. His pencil was a stub. The double ee's in her name smudged together. He took a break to sharpen the graphite pencil tip with his pocket knife.

Time ticked on and the page stayed blank. Gale realized that he was over-thinking. The situation with Undersee couldn't be solved by logic. He had to accept that. Putting pencil to paper again, he wrote from the unexplored and unmitigated depths of his heart.

* * *

Madge wandered the District for hours, thinking, and fuming, and arguing with herself. By the time she finally started home, she was worn out and dragging her feet through the Spring pollen. More than anything, she needed a nap, just a quick one, and then she would be ready to face Gale Hawthorne again.

She rounded the corner onto her street to have her plans dashed against a wall. Gale sat on the curb outside of her house. He leapt up as soon as he saw her and was already striding towards her before she fully grasped the reality of his presence.

"Here," he said, thrusting out a folded piece of lined, yellow paper. Madge glanced scathingly at his offering, crossed her arms, and raised her eyes back to his.

"You told Thom," she hissed, no longer tired. Seeing him, she remembered the sound of his laughter that morning and felt the same rush of injustice. She hated his laughter more than anyone else's.

"You told Peeta," he said.

"Peeta can keep his mouth closed."

"Really?" said Gale. "He told Katniss."

"No, you did," she said.

"I didn't. I think I might remember if I had."

Madge didn't believe him. It was absurd. Katniss and Peeta didn't talk. Katniss didn't talk to anyone besides her and Gale.

"It's not a big deal," said Gale. He hadn't come to fight. With her, he just couldn't help himself.

"Maybe not to you," she said. "It is to me. Now everyone thinks I'm pathetic, because you're going around telling everyone how ignorant-"

"I never called you that. I only told Thom that you were a…" he couldn't say the word virgin, "...you know, because I thought he could…" Nor could he tell the mayor's daughter that he'd gone to Thom for advice on how to get a girl with no experience to relax. It was too awkward. Besides, he feared Madge would punch him again at even the slightest allusion to sex.

"Will you just read the letter?" he said, shaking the piece of paper at her. Madge didn't want to read his stupid letter. She snatched it from his hand, just so he'd leave, but she meant to rip it to shreds the second he turned his back. Then he added, "Please read it."

"Maybe," she said, stuffing the letter into her pocket.


	9. Choices

**"They seemed to be able to choose. We seemed to be able to choose, then. We were a society dying of too much choice."**

Madge picked up the letter, dropped it back onto the desk as if it were burning, glared at it for a few minutes, picked it up again, put it down, traced her pinky finger across a crease in the yellow paper, picked it up, balled the letter in her fist, and tossed it into the wastebasket.

Five minutes later, she fished it out, sat down, and ironed the paper flat with the palm of her hand. The letters were smudged, but the handwriting was aesthetically pleasing with its straight, simple lines and even spaces.

She read…

* * *

Undersee,

This is probably a waste of paper. Whatever, worth a shot, right? How much worse can things get between us? Funny that there's an us. I guess, kind of, there always has been. Funny how you can know someone for most of your life and not know them at all. That's our problem, you know. We think we know each other. We don't. I guess it's time to admit that I've resented you for things that aren't your fault. Sorry for that.

That first night (you know the one I'm talking about), I didn't hurt you on purpose. I didn't mean to make you cry. Maybe I've made you cry a thousand times and just didn't know it. Until that night, I guess I never considered how you felt, how I made you feel, but I've thought about it a lot since. That's really all I think about; you, and us, and how we can get through this without hurting each other more than we already have.

I don't hate you. I've never hated you or meant to hurt you. Not exactly. You know Buttercup, right? That stupid cat was sick and starved when Prim found him. Maybe you already know all of this. Bear with me. I think I'm trying to make a point here. Any way, Prim devoted weeks to that cat. No matter how hard Buttercup fought her, no matter how many times he scratched her (she still has the scars), bit her, howled at her, she kept at it. Katniss and I told her to give up. Let the damn cat die if he wanted to.

I'm losing my point. What I'm trying to say is, I'm Buttercup. I lashed out at you, hurt you, because I hurt. Does that make sense? I hope so. I'm not good at this. I'm not Prim. I'm not half as kind. I'll admit that, because I'm trying to be honest with you, with myself. If I've been cold or insensitive with you, it's only because I hate myself. I hate having to touch you when it's obvious you don't want me to. I hate the Capitol for locking us in that room. I'm trusting you to burn this letter when you're done.

No matter what I try, we keep coming back to the same place. There's only one way out. I accept that now. Say the word and I'll never touch you again. I'll go to Cray today and tell him that I'm done, I refuse. They might go after you, but since you're the mayor's daughter, maybe they won't. They'll partner you with someone else next year, but you're smart, so I know you can find a way out for yourself between now and then.

There's only one thing I ask from you in exchange. Take care of my family. Keep them fed, clothed, alive, and if you can, keep them happy. Whatever you decide, I'll do. I trust you to make this choice for us.

* * *

Madge read the letter again and again and again, to make sure she'd read correctly. No one had given her a choice about anything throughout this whole ordeal. Be careful what you wish for...She held Gale's letter, a single sheet of paper, heavy with the weight of a man's life.

* * *

Gale was halfway down the road, when he turned back suddenly. He burst into the kitchen, where his family was cleaning up after supper.

"Did you forget something?" his mother asked. She pushed her hair back from her eyes and left a sudsy streak across her wrinkled brow. Gale didn't answer. Instead he threw his arms around her, squeezed hard, drawing strength and comfort from her sturdy frame. Then he let her go to drape one arm around Vick and the other around Rory, sandwiching himself between them.

"Knock it off," said Rory, trying to pull away. Gale was stronger. He only let them go because there wasn't much time. Last, never least, he swooped up Posy and clutched her rag-doll body to his chest. He held her the longest.

He hadn't told any of them, not even his mother, about his decision. It wasn't in his nature to have second thoughts once his mind was made up. Still, he found it almost impossible to let go of Posy, to let go of any of them, knowing that he might never see them again. His mother would understand, but his siblings...Rory would hate him for abandoning them, the way their father had, even if it hadn't been his choice to go.

Gale did have a choice, but he'd handed it over to Undersee. Maybe when Rory and Vick were older, they'd come to understand. He worried most about Posy. She was so young. Madge would keep them fed, clothed, and if she could, keep them happy, but was she strong enough to keep them safe?

"I love you," he said, his words muffled by Posy's dark, silky hair, before finally putting her down. His mother looked at him curiously, almost sad, as if she'd read his letter to Madge and knew, without being told, what he had planned.

"I love you," he said again, to all of them, though he couldn't bring himself to look at them now, from fear he'd lose his resolve. Whatever his differences with the mayor's daughter, he knew she'd provide for them when he was gone. Undersee was privileged, stubborn, and sometimes insufferably pretentious, but she was far from heartless. Besides, he assured himself that Katniss was strong enough to protect Posy.

"I love you," he said, one last time. Then he left them for what might be the last time. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he didn't trust himself to speak without breaking down, and he had to be strong now. Whatever Madge decided, he had to be strong.

* * *

Madge was late. Out of breath, she brushed past the Peacekeepers, ignoring them, even the one who always winked at her. They didn't exist. There was only one person in the world right then. For once, she was grateful for the locked door. Later, when she left the Justice Building, the medics would swab her, to ensure the deed had been completed, but in this room, the Capitol did give them the luxury of privacy.

Though she knew they weren't being watched or listened to, and though she'd meticulously planned what she wanted to say, Madge found herself unable to speak now that she was here. She stared at Gale. He stared back, waiting.

"Well," he said after a long stretch of fierce staring. "Did you read it?"

"Yes."

"You burned it?"

"Yes."

"And?"

Madge narrowed her eyes. She sucked in her cheeks, the way she always did when he'd pissed her off. It was an expression he used to strive to achieve, one that gave him pleasure. Now it left him stupefied. He didn't expect her to kiss him out of gratitude, or to even say thanks, but he certainly didn't expect her to be angry.

"They'll kill you," she snapped.

Angry that she was angry, Gale rolled his eyes. "Thanks for sugar-coating it, but I'm aware of what they'll do."

"You can't...You just can't...How dare you?" she said, throwing up her arms to enunciate her frustration. She tossed her carefully planned script out the window. At least, she would've, if there was a window. "Of all the horrible things you've ever done, this really takes top prize. How could you-?"

"What?" Gale cut in. "Do the right thing?"

"That's what you think you're doing?" she said. "You can't just dump a decision like this on someone. I knew you were stupid, and obnoxious, but I didn't know you were-"

Gale snapped. How dare she insult him, when he'd just offered to die for her? He took a step forward, and then froze. He wouldn't hit her. He would not become any more of a mutt than the Capitol had already made him. He took a deep breath, reminded himself why he wrote the letter in the first place. "I don't know what you want from me," he said. "Goddamnit, Undersee, just tell me what you want."

"I…" Madge kept staring at him, seeing him truly for the first time, looking at him, looking into him. We don't know each other. We think we do. Broken bits of his letter zipped across her thoughts. I never meant to hurt you. She believed him, though she couldn't quite explain why. She looked at the scabbed cut across the bridge of his nose, the fresh bruises blooming under his eyes, the damage she'd inflicted, the pain she had caused him.

"They'll kill you," she said again, faintly and frightened.

"They're already doing that," said Gale. "This-" he gestured to himself, then to her, "-is killing me. The way you look at me, the way Katniss looks at me. This isn't right. It's not who I am and I'd rather die than let the Capitol turn me into something I'm not."

"I don't want you to die," said Madge, straightening to her full height. "That's my decision."

Gale wanted to laugh, cry, tear his hair out at the root strand by strand. He felt relief and disappointment equally. Of course he didn't want to die, but neither did he want to be here, exactly where they'd begun, dying slowly on the inside.

"Okay, so you don't want me to die," he said. "You still haven't said what you do want."

Madge groaned her heels into the carpet. Her gaze drifted to the wall behind him. "I don't know," she finally admitted. "I need to think about it."

Gale dropped onto the edge of the bed. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Take your time, Undersee," he said. "We've got all night."


	10. Wanting

**"I want to be held and told my name. I want to be values in ways that I am not; I want to be more than valuable."**

Madge wished she had a pencil and paper to write him a letter; though, if she did, she doubted she was brave enough to write down even half her thoughts. She didn't trust him the way he apparently trusted her. What was she supposed to do with his trust? What the hell was she supposed to do with him, sitting patiently at the foot of the bed, gazing at the place in the wall where she imagined a window? She hardly recognized him. Perhaps it was his swollen nose and bruised eyes, or the absence of a scowl, or maybe her perception was the only thing that had changed.

"Does it hurt?" she said.

Gale snapped out of his daydream of the woods and tore his eyes from the imaginary window. Madge hadn't spoken in nearly an hour. "Does what hurt?"

She tapped her nose. Oh right, that. It hadn't hurt until she reminded him. "Not really," he lied. "Nice punch, though. You're the first person who's managed to break my nose." And others had tried.

Madge flushed red-hot with guilt. "It wasn't exactly a fair attack," she said, looking down at her lap.

"Are you trying to apologize?" said Gale, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"Yes," said Madge, taking him by surprise. That was all she needed to say. A thousand letters couldn't more effectively sum up how she felt than a three-letter word and the sincerity of her clear blue eyes. This time, Gale looked away first.

"I deserved it," he muttered.

"No," said Madge. "I mean, yeah, there've been times when you did deserve it, but not today. Besides, I've said some things to you over the years that were worthy of a punch in the face."

Silently, Gale agreed. He recalled a few of those things she'd said. Undersee wasn't above striking below the belt. Then again, he drove her to it. He realized that, basically, he'd been hitting himself for the past eleven years.

Another stretch of heavy silence spanned between them. Madge smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt, gathered her voice, and spoke. "I don't know how this-" blushing, she fluttered her hand nervously at the bed, "-normally works. I know the mechanics, obviously. What I mean is...it's okay. I'm okay. It doesn't...really hurt much anymore."

Gale winced at how wrong this scene was. The more she talked, the worse he felt; listening took more effort than offering to die. "I wish I could be less miserable," she said. "I don't know how, though. Besides, what I want doesn't matter. I can't have it."

Madge slumped against the wall, exhausted. She wanted to be treated like a person, not a factory part, not an empty vessel, to be used and filled. She craved affection, the illusion of choice, of love. Forget the real thing. She accepted that love did not exist in this room, with Gale, with any child they might make.

"Come on, Undersee," he said. She noticed he was standing now only when he stepped towards her. "This isn't going to work, unless you tell me what-"

"Madge," she blurted. "I want you to call me Madge."

Gale waited for more. Nothing happened. "That's it?" he said.

"No, I want…" She couldn't finish. What she wanted was too embarrassing, too frivolous. He'd only laugh at her, like always. But maybe not. After all, compared to execution, her request wasn't much. She looked to her feet and whispered, "I want to be wanted."

Gale barely heard her. He wished he hadn't. Her muted sorrow cut more deeply than any teary outburst. It wasn't like her to whisper, to be ashamed, and vulnerable. He didn't feel at all like laughing. Somehow, to Madge, the silence was worse. She picked at the hem of her skirt and filled the void in a slightly louder rush. "I want you to treat me like the girls you take to the Slag Heap."

"No," he said, prepared to do almost anything, but not that. Her face crumpled and he

realized the refusal had come out harsher than he intended. "I'm sorry. I can't do that. You're not…" He paused, thinking now about what he wanted. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding her ankles, a loose curl falling in a blonde spiral across her forehead, she looked like a work of art in a world where art wasn't allowed to exist. To say he'd never had a dirty dream about the mayor's daughter would be a big, fat lie.

Gale crouched down in front of her. He took her hand and pried her fingers loose from their fist. "I do want you," he said, tracing the lines of her smooth palm with his calloused thumb.

"Don't lie," she said, jerking away.

He caught her hand again before she could tuck it away. "I'm not." With an uncomfortable jolt, he realized that she didn't have a clue how beautiful she was. Physically, he couldn't help but want her.

"You're not a slag heap girl," he said. Even in his wildest dreams, he'd never taken her there, because even in his wildest dreams, he knew she could never be just a random hook-up. "I can do better than that."

"How?" she asked, a hint of distrust showing at the quirked corner of her lips.

Keeping hold of her hand, Gale stood. "It'll be easier to show you than tell you."

Madge tipped her head back to look at him again. The tenderness of his expression, so foreign to her, was unsettling in the way it made her heart lurch. "Okay," she said, letting him pull her to her feet.

* * *

Madge reached under her skirt to slip off her underwear, as she had the past three nights. "Not yet," said Gale. She let her hands drop to her sides. If he took one more step, there'd be no space between them. She fought her instinct to back away as he trailed his fingers down her arms, barely touching her, his breath stirring her hair. When he reached her wrists, his hands retraced their path upwards, to her shoulders, her neck, under chin. He tilted her head until her eyes met his.

"Can I kiss you?"

Madge nodded. Kissing, she supposed, was part of how this normally worked. She closed her eyes, kept her lips tightly pressed, and waited. Nothing happened. Then Gale's hands fell away.

"Have you ever kissed anyone?" he asked.

Madge opened his eyes and found that he'd retreated, almost like he was afraid. A few hours ago, he faced death without a second thought, and now a kiss had him shaking in his boots. Not literally, of course. He stood just as tall and firm as ever, only his voice, and his eyes, gave him away. Seeing that he was nervous made her less so.

"I'm not that inexperienced," she said.

Gale quirked an eyebrow. "Who've you kissed, then?"

"It's none of your business."

"I'll tell you who I've been with."

"We don't have that long," she said, crossing her arms. If this was his idea of doing better, then the rumors about him must be highly exaggerated. But then he flashed that fatal Hawthorne smirk, the one she'd seen him use on other girls, reducing them to dopey-eyed puddles of lovesick adolescence. She'd always scoffed at those girls.

"True," he said, shrugging. Just like that, Madge melted.

"Peeta's brother," she said. "We had a thing, but it never got serious. It was weird, really. I always felt a little like I was kissing my own brother." She realized she was babbling, but couldn't stop. "I mean, not really. That's what it'd feel like to kiss Peeta, so kissing Rye felt like kissing my brother's brother, which is still weird, but not quite as-"

Gale closed the gap between them in one stride. He cupped her face in both hands. "Madge?" he said seriously.

"What?"

"You're cute when you babble."

Then he kissed her. There was nothing brotherly about it.

* * *

From the first kiss, everything fell into place. Gale cleared his head of the world outside this room, everything that wasn't Madge. He kissed her softly once, twice, on the third, she uncrossed her arms. His thumb grazed across her bottom lip. He kissed one closed eyelid, and then the other, as his hands slid to her hips.

When she began to kiss back, Gale wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close to better gauge her responses, how her body tensed at something new and gradually relaxed. Patience came surprisingly easy. This was new for him too. The girls he hooked with were fleeting, a temporary catharsis, gone tomorrow. But Undersee...for better or worse, she was a fixed point in his life. He didn't know her well; he knew her better than anyone else he'd been with.

Swept up in the kissing, Madge didn't realize she was on the bed until she felt Gale fumbling with the bottom button of her shirt. Panic struck. She opened her eyes and pushed against his chest. "No," she said, furiously shaking her head. "No, I don't want-"

"Okay," said Gale, holding up his hands. Too much, too soon. He craved the feel of her skin against his, but quickly reminded himself that this wasn't about him.

"I'm sorry," said Madge. "I'm just not ready for-"

"It's okay," he said again, leaning in, letting his lips hover just above hers. "You don't have to apologize for anything." Oddly, he was content with just kissing her. It was strange, a little awkward, a little...wonderful.

Kissing, however, wasn't what that Capitol required, and one way or another, the Capitol always got what it wanted. Gale waited until Madge was good and distracted, before he dared slip his hands under her shirt, keeping below her ribs. He nudged his knee between her legs and rocked against her, easing her into the motion.

Her breathing grew heavy. He felt her heart pounding against his chest. She began to hesitantly match his movements, each push and pull hiking her skirt a little further up her stomach. The heat of him between her legs was unexplainably satisfying. She felt him harden, and instead of terror, a spark of curiosity spread a strange and tingling warmth through her body. She whimpered, the sound vibrating around his tongue.

Gale broke the kiss and buried his face against her shoulder, panting against her neck, startled by how that little sound affected him. Keep it together, Hawthorne. It was hopeless. He couldn't hold out much longer. The battle was lost.

"Madge," he groaned, her name muffled and apologetic. They couldn't afford any accidents now. They'd spent too much time talking. "I need to-"

She couldn't speak to tell him not to apologize, it's okay, so she wriggled her arm out from between them and brushed her fingertips across the back of his neck.


	11. Crazy, Stupid, Impossible

**"Better never means better for everyone...It always means worse, for some."**

In early spring, the lake was still cold, but that didn't stop Bristel from going in. He left a streak of coal black in his wake as he waded further out into the blue-green water.

"Crazy," said Thom. He dipped his hand into the lake and quickly withdrew, shaking his hand and splattering icy droplets across Gale's face. "If his limbs freeze up, you'll have to save him. No way am I going in."

"Alright," said Gale. Bristel was a good swimmer. He wasn't likely to need saving. Since he'd started working in the mines, Gale and Thom rarely saw him. He usually spent his day off to catch up on missed sleep. He slept like a dead man. After six days underground, he basically was.

In a month, Thom and Gale would be down there with him. This was probably their last lake trip for a while and Gale wanted to enjoy it. But his thoughts drifted to Undersee, casting shadows over the sunny day. After tonight, it would all be over. So why wasn't he happier? Why couldn't he enjoy this rare moment with his friends?

Bristel flopped to shore.

"Crazy," said Thom again, shaking his head.

"Only way to get really clean," said Bristel. He held up his arms to catch the sunlight. There wasn't a speck of coal dust on his skin. Come tomorrow, he would be covered once more. He lowered his arms and turned to Gale. "You're quiet today. Got something to share with the rest of the class?"

"Nope," said Gale.

"He's just thinking about Undersee," said Thom.

"Right, of course," said Bristel, rolling his eyes.

"What's that supposed mean?" demanded Gale, glaring back and forth between them.

Bristel looked to Thom, as if asking for permission to speak. Thom shrugged. "Well," said Bristel. "When aren't you thinking about her?"

"It's been a weird week," said Gale. He felt the need to defend himself against their conspiratorial glances. "I've had to think about her a lot."

Thom snorted. "So what's your excuse for the past eleven years?"

"What?"

"Undersee this. Undersee, that," said Thom. "If I had a diamond for every time you said her name, I'd be the richest man in Panem."

"Bullshit," snapped Gale, coiled to spring. Bristel, always the voice of reason, quickly intervened.

"It's sort of true," he said. "You talk about her quite her a bit."

Okay, fine...so I talk about Undersee a lot. Only because she irritated him so much, the constant thorn in his side.

"You're crazy about her," said Thom. "And you have been for ages. It was fun to watch at first, but frankly, I got sick of it a long time ago."

"We thought you'd figure it eventually," added Bristel.

Gale gaped at them, hardly daring to believe his ears. "You're the crazy ones," he finally said. "Undersee and I can't be together for ten minutes without fighting." Though that wasn't entirely true. Last night, they'd gone a lot longer than ten minutes without arguing. He wasn't about share that with Thom and Bristel, especially with what they were currently accusing him of. They were both looking at him like they knew so much more than him.

"I'm not crazy about her," he said, leaping to his feet. "I don't give a damn about Undersee. She's just an uppity town girl." Though that wasn't entirely true either. If he didn't give a damn about her, he wouldn't still feel the ghost of her touch at the back of his neck. He wouldn't feel sick, remembering how he'd made her cry.

"Calm down," said Bristel. "We're not trying to pick a fight."

"Yeah," said Thom. "Just pointing out the obvious."

"Think about it. Most townies you ignore. Why is she the only one you go out of your way to rile up."

Gale opened his mouth to speak to in his defense, but Bristel's observation stumped him. He knew why he went after Madge, because he enjoyed arguing with her, because...it gave him an opportunity to talk to her at all. She was the mayor's daughter. They couldn't be friends, except she was friends with Katniss, so then…

Suddenly, he felt as if he'd been thrown into the freezing cold lake. He did not want to be friends with Madge Undersee. He wanted more than that. He wanted the impossible. How many years had he been lying to himself? He wished that Thom and Bristel had let him continue with the self-delusions, let him believe that he hated the mayor's daughter because she was a townie, when really, he hated her for being the one girl he'd always wanted, and just another thing he couldn't have.

With a groan, he sank to the ground and buried his face in his hands. Bristel gave him a bracing thump on the back. "Cheer up," he said. "Not too late to tell her. You never know."

* * *

Madge stared glumly at the pile of homework spread across the dining room table. She'd given up nearly an hour ago. Peeta kept working. She knew he'd let her copy off of him. He didn't ask what was on her mind, because he already knew and he'd promised not to pry. Still, he glanced at her every few seconds, unable to keep his eyes from prying. Unasked questions clogged the air.

Madge sighed. He was only so curious out of concern. "We kissed," she said.

Peeta's head shot up. "You and Hawthorne?"

"Me and Greasy Sae," she said, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Gale."

"Oh," said Peeta. He put down his pencil. Since she'd brought up the subject, he figured he was allowed to ask questions. "Well, how was it?"

"Okay."

"Just okay?"

"It was...nice," she admitted. "Better." She didn't mention the letter. It didn't feel right to tell anyone, not even Peeta, about that. The kissing he could know about. The letter, somehow more intimate, needed to be kept secret.

"You're not falling for him, are you?" said Peeta, grinning.

"Don't be stupid," said Madge. The day she fell for Gale Hawthorne would be the day the earth stopped turning.

* * *

Gale stood in the late afternoon shadow of the mayor's brick mansion. Stupid Thom and Bristel. They just had to tear down the wall of willful ignorance he'd been carefully building for years; now he was rubble on the inside. What the hell am I doing here? He didn't belong here, not anymore. For the first time, he was intimidated by the mayor's house.

Tomorrow everything would be normal again...He was here because he didn't want normal. How could he, knowing the truth of how he felt? The partial truth. The more he thought about it, the less he seemed to know. He was crazy about her, or she just made him crazy, or both. He didn't love her. So was it lust? No, he knew that emotion well enough. This did not feel the same. Maybe being locked in a room with her had messed with his mind, made him believe things that weren't true.

Gale turned to leave. Then remembered kissing her, the featherlight touch of her hand, and the silent moment of understanding between them, the sort he'd never experience with anyone outside of his own family. He spun around and knocked on the mayor's backdoor without a clue what he was going to say. He waited, head buzzing, palms sweating, mouth dry, definitely crazy.

Preparing to blurt out the first words that came to him when he saw Undersee's stupid, perfect face, Gale took a deep breath, which he choked on when the door finally opened. "May I help you?" said Mayor Undersee. Never, in all of Gale's years selling strawberries here, had the mayor himself answered the door.

"Um…" said Gale. "Is Undersee...I mean, Madge. Is she home?"

"She's studying," said the mayor, his voice crisp, blue eyes sharp behind gold-rimmed spectacles. Gale had always thought of him as a weak man who smiled too much; he was not smiling now.

"I only want to talk to her for a second," said Gale. "Maybe you don't know me, but I'm-"

"I know who you are," said Mayor Undersee, his tone making clear that he knew more than Gale's name, and more than that he was the boy who sold them illegal berries. "I think you had better leave."

He's right. I shouldn't have come here in the first place. But once Gale started something, he didn't stop. His pride battled common sense. "Could you just tell her that I'm here?"

The mayor's lip twitched. "No," he said, firm and direct. "After tonight, I don't want you near my daughter. You are not to speak to her anymore. Are we clear, young man?"

Gale felt like he'd been punched in the face, again. How could he have believed for a single second that he was worthy of Madge Undersee? She was the mayor's daughter. He was a dirty lump of coal. His pride snapped under the mayor's steel blue gaze.

"Yes, Sir," he said. "I understand."


	12. Conception

**"We would lie in those afternoon beds, afterwards, hands on each other, talking it over. Possible, impossible. What could be done? Possible, impossible. We thought we had such problems. How were we to know we were happy?"**

Madge had been a terribly stubborn child, fighting her parents over every little thing, until her mother forced her to learn piano. For the first two lessons, she'd refused to touch the keys. On the third day, she grew bored and banged on the keys with her chubby fists, to annoy her mother. When that didn't work, however, she gave in. The ivory keys just felt so nice under her fingertips. After that, she began to chose her battles with more care. Though she still disagreed with her mother about nearly everything, she'd learned to reserve her strength for the important rebellions.

So she wore the dress that her mother picked out, and she dutifully suffered her father's clumsy hug, before declaring her decision to walk to the Justice Building alone. Her father didn't need much convincing. With his support, there wasn't much her mother could do, besides put up a fight to the bitter end.

"I can walk a few blocks on my own," Madge had told them. Then, looking directly at her mother, she'd added, "I'm not a child, remember?"

There was a spring in her step as she walked to the Justice Building without a chaperone. She breathed in the twilight. Tonight, the last night, she was not afraid, only a little nervous, but not in a bad way. She wasn't falling for Gale Hawthorne...the thought of kissing him again did, however, appeal to her. He was rather good at kissing. No, he was exceptional. As long as she didn't dwell on anything else, she found that it was possible to be not so miserable.

Madge marched up the steps and entered the Justice Building through the heavy, steel doors. A Capitol medic waited to check her in, draw a phial of blood, and then hand her over to a Peacekeeper. As she followed the man to the breeder apartments, she lost the spring in her step, wishing she could make this final stretch of her journey alone. She knew better than to ask. She knew the small battles that could be won and which one were a waste of energy.

* * *

Gale paced back and forth from one blank, gray wall to the other. He'd had time to check his perspective. It was probably for the best that Mayor Undersee had come to the door instead of Madge. Gale wasn't usually so impulsive. Since his father's death, he couldn't afford to be. He blamed Thom and Bristel for planting hope where it could never grow. Whatever his feelings for Undersee, she wasn't worth the hassle. She wasn't a seam girl who he could meet at the slag heap or take to a bonfire. She was a townie. She was from a different world.

He convinced himself that he didn't care. Can't mourn what you never had. Even before his father died, he hadn't been one to harbor unattainable fantasies. He was a realist and, in reality, Undersee was just a girl. There were plenty of others.

But then the door opened and there she was, perfect as always, in a modest, pink dress. He hated pink. Suddenly it was his favorite color. She gave a timid smile and his imagination took flight, soaring higher and higher, until reality became a speck of dirt, indistinguishable from all the other specks making up the ground.

Madge's smile fell. "Are you alright?" she said. He was pale. Had he caught the stomach bug?

"Fine," he grunted around the dry lump in his throat. "I, uh...Pretty dress."

There was nothing derisive in tone. Still, Madge scowled at the compliment, remembering the last time he'd said those two words. Had it really only been four nights ago? To her it seemed a lifetime, one that was coming to an end.

"I brought you something," said Gale, taking a crushed bouquet of purple and yellow wildflowers from his back pocket. He held them out to her.

Madge didn't move to take them. Her scowl deepened. "Why?" she said.

Gale shrugged. "Just because."

Boys who give you flowers only want one thing, her mother often warned, but Gale had already gotten that one thing from her. He didn't need to give her flowers. The Capitol had already done all of the work for him. So what did he want? Madge remembered the way he'd fumbled with her blouse last night and a fiery blush blazed across her face.

"If you think I'm going to take my clothes off just because you brought-" Gale cut her off with a rumbling chuckle. "I'm serious," she said. "You can forget it. I'm not-"

"Easy, Undersee," he said. He'd never needed flowers to get a girl to undress. For days ago, her accusations would have offended him. Now he was amused, a little guilty even, because he did want to see what was under that pretty, pink dress. That wasn't why he'd brought the flowers, though. "They're just a parting gift," he said, as he settled the crushed bouquet into one of the water glasses on the bedside table. In this colorless room, they were almost too much to look at. They didn't belong here.

"This is our last night, though," he said, casting a wolfish grin over his shoulder. "So if you do want to strip down, I won't complain."

"In your dreams, Hawthorne."

"You're almost always naked in my dreams," he said.

Madge turned such a vibrant shade of red that he expected her to explode. She opened and closed her mouth, fumbling for a response, and finally choked out, "Shut-up."

"No really," said Gale. "Just last night I dreamed that you-"

Madge jammed her fingers into her ears and shook her head. "I don't want to hear it," she said. So much for flirting, thought Gale. Her stare was cool and hard, so similar to her father's, and with a sharp pang, Gale remembered that tonight was likely his last chance to talk to her, to tell her about his dreams, even the ones where they were both fully clothed, which were just as good as the ones where they weren't.

He plummeted back to reality. Tomorrow she would be cut from his life completely, for good. That's how it had to be. Tonight, however, he would do things right, make amends for the past eleven years, give her at least one happy memory of him. He crossed the room and pried her hands away from her ears. Madge wanted to step back, knew that was the appropriate thing to do, but he twined his fingers through hers. His heat muddled her thoughts like a July day. She was unsteady this close to him.

"I'm going to miss you, Madge," he said. Her brow creased. What was he talking about? She wasn't going anywhere and neither was he. They couldn't get away from each other even if they tried, and she had tried, many times.

"You're being weird," she said, wrinkling her nose at him. He'd miss that, too. He kissed her to keep from saying something he'd regret.

* * *

This kissing was different from last night. This was breathless, sloppy, deep, and desperate. This was entirely terrifying, bewildering, exultant. Even pressed snuggly between Gale and the wall, Madge felt she was falling. She gripped his shoulders, clinging to him for dear life. Her nails cut into him and he pulled away suddenly, a look of horror breaking across his face.

"Sorry," he muttered, stepping back. Madge caught a fistful of his shirt, because she was afraid of falling, and because she didn't want him to go. She wanted to keep falling, as long as she didn't land.

"Shut up," she said again, pushing up onto her tiptoes and falling into him.

* * *

Gale toyed with the hem of her dress, his knuckles grazing her thighs. When he needed to breathe, he kissed her neck, her collar bones and the dip in between, even her ears, which he was pleased to find made her giggle, but he couldn't stay away from her lips for long. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned by the time he realized what she was doing.

"Margaret Undersee," he said, feigning indignation. "Are you trying to undress me?"

She squirmed at the use of her full name and glared at her treacherous hands, frozen in the act. I didn't even bring him flowers, she thought, dazed and dizzy.

"How about we trade?" he said. "Something of mine for something of yours?"

Madge didn't think it was a fair bargain. He was wearing more clothes than her. Before she could protest, however, he pulled free the white ribbon holding up her pony tail with the quick and nimble fingers of someone who'd spent countless hours working with knots. Her hair fell in soft, blonde waves over her shoulders. He caught a silky curl and let it slide through his fingers. Then, because he always kept his end of a bargain, he yanked his half-buttoned shirt over his head.

Madge gaped at him. She'd seen the Mellark boys with less clothes on, but the sight of them had never made her insides convulse they way they were now. Gale was skinny, like everyone in the seam, but all of his days spent in the woods had been kind to him. He was all lean muscle and warm, brown skin. Her eyes followed the trail of dark hair from his belly button to where it disappeared under the waist of his slacks.

"It's rude to stare," he said. Startled, Madge's eyes flicked back to his face. He was wearing a smug grin that made her want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. Instead, she brushed her fingertips over his stomach, felt his muscles curl at the tentative touch, heard his sharp intake of breath, and quickly withdrew her hand.

"You can touch me," said Gale, speaking gently, despite the way his whole body screamed to be touched by her again.

* * *

Madge didn't stop thinking, not exactly. Thoughts shot across her mind like distant comets, gone before she could see them clearly. The colorful tails of light left behind oozed together, until the inside of her head looked like a melted painting. There was no pain, no fear, only color, only light. Only Gale's hand between her legs and the fact that she didn't care what he was doing down there, as long as he didn't stop. When he wasn't kissing her, she watched in a semi-trance the beads of sweat roll down his chest and arms.

It was all so messy, so musky. Her dress, bunched high up her stomach, was sticky with sweat, some of it her own and some of it his. Madge didn't like messes. They horrified her, a trait she'd inherited from her mother. Right now, though, she couldn't care less. The whole country was a mess. Life was just one long, miserable mess. At least this mess felt good for the moment.

Then the moment was over. All of the color and light dissipated. Now she could only feel the way Gale pulsed inside of her, the sickening warmth filling her. Madge looked up at his face, glowing and rapturous, and she began to cry.

* * *

Gale collapsed on top of her, hid his face in her hair, and decided to stay there, forever. This windowless room was the only place they could be together, so he didn't want to leave anymore. After a minute, his heart stopped pounding, and he could hear the strange sound Madge was making, like she couldn't breathe. Gale propped up onto his elbows. As soon as he saw her face, shiny with tears, he crashlanded from the height of bliss to the pits of despair.

So much for making amends. So much for doing anything right where Madge Undersee was concerned. He only ever pissed her off or made her cry, no matter what he did. This room was the only place they could be together...but she didn't want to be here, with him. How could he have forgotten that?

"I'm sorry," he said, rolling away from her. He dressed quickly, keeping his back to her, so he wouldn't have to look at her tears, a bitter reminder that he didn't deserve another second with her. "I really am sorry," he said again, moving to the door as he buttoned his shirt.

"Stop apologizing. It's n...n...not you," said Madge. Gale froze He knew it was a mistake, but he turned around anyways. She was sitting with her knees clutched to her chest "I don't want to have a baby," she whispered, afraid of being overheard. She even hoped that Gale wouldn't hear.

His hearing was excellent. His memory, not so much. Somehow, he'd forgotten the reason they were here. But of course she didn't forget, he thought, drowning in her wet, sorrowfully blue eyes. Being a breeder was harder for the girls. He'd always known that; only now did he understand. He stood halfway between Madge and the door. Leave, just leave. Forget about her, just forget.

Next thing Gale knew, he was back on the bed, with his arms wrapped around Madge. She slumped against him, tired of fighting. She stopped choking down her sobs. "Get it all out, Undersee," he said, pulling her closer. "I got you."

Gale kept holding her after she fell silent and still, even though the longer he did hold her, the harder it was going to be letting go. He did not tell her that everything would be okay. He didn't want a lie to be the last thing he gave her.


	13. Like Always

**"Nothing changes instantaneously: in a gradually heating bathtub, you'd be boiled to death before you knew it."**

Madge was in the room. A white-masked, Capitol medic towering between her legs. In his gloved hands was a pair of large scissors with metal hooks in place of blades. She tried to ask what he was doing, only to realize she'd been gagged. She tried to kick the medic when he lowered the scissors, only to realize that her hands and feet were bound to the bed by leather straps.

Then Gale was beside her, smiling down at her. He brushed her hair back from her sweaty forehead and said, "I'm going to miss you, Madge."

Then there was pain. A spear of lightning through her stomach. She screamed through the gag, and the thing being torn out of her, by the medic and his surgical hooks, screamed with her.

Madge woke up screaming. Then she hurled all over the empty pillow beside her.

* * *

Gale didn't fall asleep until just before dawn. He woke an hour later to sunshine streaming across his face, like Madge's hair, and a knot of worms wriggling their way from his stomach to his throat. Any second now, he was going to barf. Rory and Vick snored on either side of him.

"Ge'off," grunted Rory, as Gale rolled over him, and kept rolling, right off of the bed. He hit the rough pine floor on all fours. Vick shot up, suddenly wide awake. He scrambled over Rory's legs to the edge of the bed and looked down at Gale with sleepy-eyed concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Gale heaved. Good enough of an answer. Watery sick splattered his hands and arms. He didn't care, barely noticed. He was still thinking about the sunlight and Madge's hair.

* * *

She had the stomach bug. Nothing more. It was way too early for morning sickness. That didn't stop Madge from worrying. Sleep and stay hydrated, doctor's orders, but she refused to fall asleep, afraid of slipping back into her nightmare. Even if she never slept again, the nightmare was likely to catch up to her. She felt it growing inside already, and she hoped, beyond reason, that she could uproot it, expel it, before too late.

* * *

Gale was under quarantine, forbidden from leaving the bedroom, not that he had any plans to walk that far, or to walk at all. He heard Rory and their mother arguing through the thin, clapboard walls.

"Why can't he sleep on the couch?" said Rory.

"Because I don't want the rest of you getting sick."

"We probably already are," said Rory, without missing a beat. The boy had a point. Disease spread like wildfire in the close quarters of the seam. When one Hawthorne boy fell ill, so did the others, the price of sharing a bed.

Gale folded his pillow over his ears to block out the argument. In between bouts of nausea, he wondered if he'd passed on the bug to Madge. As if he didn't feel guilty enough…

* * *

Gale and Madge weren't at school. Without her only two friends, Katniss was left to brood in self-imposed isolation. Beneath her stoic facade, however, she panicked. Something bad must have happened last night, she thought over and over. Why else would both of them be absent…? What had Gale done this time? She didn't doubt that he was the one to blame. In the woods, she trusted him with her life. With her family, she knew she could count on him to help support them. But when it came to the mayor's daughter, he was just an asshole.

Katniss didn't approve of the way her best friend treated her other best friend. She'd wasted countless hours on trying to figure out the relationship between them, which she'd accidentally put herself in the middle of. Gale didn't like townies. Fair enough. She didn't much either. Really, Gale was the reason she befriended Madge in the first place. After two years of listening to him rage against the mayor's daughter, Katniss had decided to find out for herself if all he said was true.

Now that she had heard both sides of their conflict, and realized that Madge wasn't the monster that Gale made her out to be, Katniss had a theory. It wasn't perfect. There were holes she couldn't fill, and gaps that didn't quite connect, but it was the best she'd come up with. Gale hated Madge so much more than any townie, simply because her family was the richest, the most powerful, in District Twelve. His prejudice correlated to her privilege. That was the kind of logical thinking that he'd use to justify himself.

It wasn't right, or fair, but Katniss never could hold his behavior against him for too long. After all, she'd become friends with him before she ever talked to Madge. She understood him better than Madge. She needed him. Most of all, she couldn't break from him, because he was part of her family. An asshole, yes, but she loved him the way you can only love your kin, completely, permanently.

However, when school let out, she decided to check on Madge first. It made sense geographically. If she went to Gale first, then she would have to backtrack into town, and then backtrack back to the Seam. Besides, right now, Madge probably needed her more. Even though I'm no good at this kind of thing, she thought, heading into town. It was easier with Gale, to be honest. He never asked for comfort, only distraction. She couldn't just punch Madge on the shoulder and tell her to stop being a cry baby.

* * *

From the edge of the weedy, dirt schoolyard, Peeta watched Katniss turn towards town. He followed a good distance behind her, expecting that she would veer off somewhere in the merchant district, but they soon passed the butcher's and the apothecary, the only two places he'd ever seen her visit in town. Then he remembered the one other place she sometimes went, the same place he was headed now, the mayor's house.

Now that he suspected they were going to the same place, he felt like a creep following her in silence. "Katniss," he called out. Either she didn't hear or chose to ignore him. "Katniss," he shouted, louder. This time, she glanced over her shoulder and pursed her lips when she saw him, but waited for him to catch up.

"What do you want now, Mellark?" she said when he stopped before her.

"Nothing," he said. "I'm just bringing Madge her schoolwork."

At the mention of Madge, Katniss' stern gaze softened a little. All day she'd wondered and worried what had happened last night between her two best friends. Suddenly she realized that the answers had been within her reach the whole time. Peeta, who sat near her in every class, probably already knew the whole story.

"Is she alright?" said Katniss, her concern outweighing her dislike of breadboy.

"She caught that stomach bug," said Peeta.

"That's it?" said Katniss, flooded with relief.

"Um, yeah," said Peeta, confused by her expression. For once, she didn't look as if talking to him was as painful as having all of her teeth pulled. She looked almost grateful. "What did you think was wrong with her?"

"Nothing," said Katniss, becoming her familiar, surly self. "Tell her that I'll see her tomorrow," she said, spinning around, back towards the seam. Today, she'd let Peeta take care of Madge. He was better at the whole sympathy thing anyways.

"Wait," said Peeta. "Aren't you going there now?"

Again, Katniss either didn't hear or chose to ignore him. He guessed it was the latter. Her dark braid whipped around the corner and she was gone, but Peeta lingered. She's always doing that, he thought, irritated, always running away from me. He felt an urge to chase after her this time, but Katniss Everdeen was much faster than him. He couldn't catch up, not now. He'd already hesitated too long, like always.

* * *

Gale woke from a fitful nap to find Katniss perched at the foot of the bed. "Hey Catnip," he croaked, unsurprised.

"You were dreaming," she said. "Didn't sound like a good one."

Gale rolled his eyes. Thanks for telling me what I already know. To steer the conversation away from things he didn't want to talk about, he said, "Did you come just to watch me sleep, weird-o?"

"I haven't been here long," she said, shrugging, not at all embarrassed. Katniss never felt shame, or so he was convinced. He'd only seen her blush once, on the day she confronted in the woods about Madge.

Stop, he told himself. Do not think about her. Too late. It was almost too easy to make Undersee blush, for all sorts of reasons. He had dedicated over a decade to studying the various shades of red that her skin could turn.

"Sorry I got you sick," said Katniss. Gale snapped out of his thoughts, so fast that it left him dizzy. There was one benefit from to living in the seam. When you got sick, there wasn't much to throw up.

"Could have been anyone," he said, though he knew it was her, and she knew that he knew. Neither of them needed to say anymore about it.

"I'm sorry for being so hard on you this week," she said. "I know it hasn't been easy for you."

You don't know the half of it. Gale meant to keep it that way. He wasn't worried that she'd go blabbing his secret to Madge. He just didn't want to put her in another uncomfortable position. Procreation week was over, for all of them. It was time to bury the pain, leave the awkwardness behind, sink to reality, march on.

"Forget it," he said. "It's over. Everyone made it out alive." He tried to smile, barely scraping a grimace. "But thanks, Catnip. I appreciate it." He couldn't have Madge Undersee, but at least he had his friends, his family. In time, he believed he could be content with that again.

* * *

Madge refused to see Peeta or anyone else. Coming down with the stomach bug was, in a way, a stroke of luck. It gave her an excuse to be alone, to wallow, just for today. Stomach bugs never lasted long. Already the nausea had eased. By tomorrow, she'd be well enough to face the world, move on with her life, whatever happened next. She would walk to school with Peeta, like always, and eat lunch with Katniss, like always, and when she saw Gale, which was inevitable, she would…

She didn't know what she'd do. Would they fight, like always? Between the puking, the panic attacks, and the moments of steely determination to put the past week behind her, Madge thought about Gale. They couldn't return to the way they'd been before. Too much had changed. She just didn't know what shape the change would take outside of their bleak room in the Justice Building.

Watching the sun set through the open window, she remembered how it had felt to be held by him. Madge closed her eyes and imagined that he was holding her now. The uncertainty of the future pressed down on her and she wanted to return to that moment from last night, stay there permanently, in Gale Hawthorne's arms, where briefly she had felt safe and understood.

* * *

 **Coming Up In the Sequel:** More Everlark. The appearance of everyone's favorite alcoholic, Haymitch Abernathy. Further insight into the Undersee household. Drama, heartbreak, yada yada. You know the drill by now :) Oh yeah, and more Gadge, of course (because I think we all know that they can't stay away from each other for long).


End file.
